


A witch, a wizard and the boy who lived, walk into a bar...

by SpuffyCarrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Auror Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drunk Dancing, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpuffyCarrie/pseuds/SpuffyCarrie
Summary: Hermione Granger goes out on a rare night out with the Golden Trio five years after the war. They don’t get together often but their night takes a turn, along with the British weather when Hermione’s friends forget about her while she cowers from a thunderstorm in the corner of the pub. What happens when she makes the decision to apparate home with the cloaked figure who offers her comfort when she realizes she’s being ignored by her friends? Dramione one-shot containing tiny hints of the Christmas season.I’d love to hear from you, but this is unbeta’d so please be gentle.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	A witch, a wizard and the boy who lived, walk into a bar...

"Harry, look, it’s bucketing down and all I want is a drink, let's just go in. I'm not bothered what the place looks like, you just promised us a good night out together." Ron complained to his friends who were loitering outside a dodgy looking pub on the cusp of knock turn alley, unsure whether to proceed through the door, which had seen better days.

Granted, its old sign creaked, the wind blowing the slanted rain over the decrepit wood, giving it an air of somewhere one might end up in a horror film, but it was their only option if they weren't to get drenched. Harry had miscalculated and realised by this time of night everywhere apart from the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley was closed. Many of the better pubs and shops closed during the wizarding war and sadly never reopened. None of them were in the mood to face the rowdy crowd at the Leaky on a Friday night after a hard week at work as they’d promised themselves a long overdue catch-up. Five years after the war, they all worked, Hermione ran her own chain of bookshop’s, Worldwide Bibliopolium*, specialising in rare magical books and a line in muggle literature which had proved to be quite the success with magical customers. Harry was a senior Auror on the fast track to becoming head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Ron, well, even he could hardly call playing Quidditch professionally for the Chudley Cannons a real job, especially when he loved it so much.

The wizarding world remained safe, mainly thanks to the efforts of the Auror department and the three relaxed into a comfortable life. Harry married Ginny a year after the end of the war and they had a son, James, aged three who was the light of his life. Ginny was pregnant with their next but hadn’t yet told him, although Hermione knew and had been sworn to secrecy until she could set up a romantic dinner for them and give him the good news. Ron was playing the field with a different witch on his arm every week, but he was happy and not ready to settle down quite yet, the travel involved in his job wasn’t conducive with a settled relationship. Hermione was almost content, she’d had a few boyfriends, wizards and some muggles she met while travelling but none ever really made her want to dive into married life or have a family. She travelled all over the world for business and on this rare occasion was back in the UK for a few months straight for her business audit and some rest and relaxation, not that she thought of searching for ancient cities and their hidden tomes wasn’t fun, it was, and she thought of herself as the Lara Croft of the book world. She and Ron had never really clicked as a couple and drifted away from each other naturally without too much of a fuss. They’d talked eventually and both realised they were better off as friends, although Hermione occasionally saw Molly stare wistfully at them during Sunday lunch at the burrow, especially when Ron was going on about his latest squeeze who was only likely to last five minutes.

The name of the pub, The Cackling Stump, was barely visible as the sign had faded with age, its paint peeling away, but there was a warm orange glow from inside, tiny, colourful Christmas lights adorned the windows and the trio needed a place to shelter before they were drenched by the impending rainfall.

"But this night isn't about drinking, it's about reconnecting, it's not far to get to the next pub, it's just down the road and I'm sure it's far better than this shit hole." Harry whined, thinking his new posh suit was a little much for the dark and drab little pub.

"I'm with Ron, Harry, my new dress is getting wet already, and my hair will turn into a frizzy mess if we stay out here much longer, I only had a sleekeasys, Brazilian blow-dry this afternoon and it’ll be ruined." The boys eyed each other in confusion and shrugged. In the meantime, the decision of whether to enter was made by Hermione when she ran inside, her coat pulled up to shield her hair when the rain started in earnest. As they crossed the threshold into the dusty old pub, a crack of lightning and a foreboding roll of thunder had Hermione scurrying for cover.

Ron clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading straight for the bar with a massive grin, while Hermione found a quiet corner away from the windows near to the fire. She sat down hastily, warming her hands until the next crack of lightning lit up the pub and she scuttled to a darker corner further away from her friend’s sight. She knew the boys would get her usual, and they knew what she was like when lightning struck. Ever since she was a child she'd been terrified of the explosive white light and usually hid under the stairs if she was at home. Tonight, she was trying to be braver but even the stories her mother told her as a child couldn't soothe her as she went over them in her head.

"Darling, it's just God moving his furniture, he'll stop once he's satisfied it's in the right place."

She almost heard her mother’s voice speak inside her head, which was odd as they'd hardly been religious as a family, so where God came into her mum’s explanation of the natural event, she couldn’t be sure. Aged twenty-three it seemed so silly to rely on a lost voice from the past to help her when she was frightened. It wasn't that she thought of other people's fears as being unreasonable, just hers alone. She supposed it was because she was highly logical, and she knew about the positive and negatively charged particles which caused the white flashes, it was just the sound which shook her to her core. She trembled as another crack of lightning followed a rumble of thunder that seemed almost like it was right above her head. Trembling, she placed both hands on the table and muttered to herself and she clenched her fists tightly when her self-soothing didn’t work.

When the next crack of lightning hit, a pale hand darted across the table from the gloom, clutching hers and startling her. She looked up to see the lower portion of a man’s face covered by a hooded cloak. He'd been sitting in the corner all along, she noted, she just hadn’t realized in her terror. Glancing at Harry and Ron chatting animatedly with a large group of wizards about the war, she looked back at the hand clutching hers. She should really shirk him off, but his hand felt oddly comforting on hers.

Harry and Ron had been talking earlier about how they should all get over their fear of hooded figures because the war had been over for five years and they couldn't keep thinking everyone wearing a hood was a potential Death Eater. Hermione hated going into muggle London at night because it seemed every teen wore a hoodie, it was just the fashion and back in the wizarding world it wasn’t much better, especially when the weather was like this. So, she tried to stay calm, convincing herself the man was just trying to be kind, that perhaps he was just sheltering from the rain too while wearing better-suited attire than them.

"Lightning always frightens me too." The hooded figure said, his voice barely audible but somehow mesmerising. He had a kind smile, but she couldn't see his eyes as the lip of his hood hid the upper part of his face in flickering shadows from the fire. The badly lit pub was filled with corners such as this and she felt anxious as it would be a good place for someone to hide who might be up to no good.

"I-I know it's irrational, but I feel like I'll be killed, err, like it’s come to strike me dead for my crimes." She left her hand under his, enjoying the warmth it gave to her frigid fingers, her skin like ice in terror, and the moment of camaraderie she felt in their mutual fear. She really hoped he wasn't some dirty wizard with a fetish for touching young witches’ hands without their consent.

"At least with me I probably deserve it," the vaguely familiar voice murmured, "although I must admit, I never thought Hermione Granger was afraid of anything, or that she’d committed any crimes. I heard she was a good girl." He chuckled lowly.

She gave a tight grin, even more curious about him now she'd found out he knew her, but then the whole wizarding world knew her, so it was hardly anything unusual. "I was always afraid; I just buried it and did what I had to do. In answer to your thought, here have been a few things I'm not proud of, things that almost crossed the line, but it was war and we all find our morality tested in war."

"You can say that again." The voice replied sadly.

Startled, she withdrew her hand. This person sounded like they’d seen action and now she was worried she’d found herself in cahoots with someone who might be from the other side. Thinking about it, she knew every Death Eater had been caught and sentenced after the war, along with anybody caught supporting them, so she relaxed a little. "Who are you?" She whispered urgently, glancing at Harry and Ron as they enjoyed their drinks and held court amongst the punters, annoyed with them as they'd forgotten to bring her butterbeer over.

Harry glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow at her sitting in the corner, she was sitting on the only visible table, while the man sat hidden in the nook. The room lit up again and he nodded with an understanding pout, realising why she was hiding and then he turned back to the group of people surrounding him. He didn’t seem to notice her new companion. Hermione wanted to be brave and she’d always been adamant that she didn’t need comforting from her fears, but she needed someone now and she wondered if Harry and Ron had taken that a little too literally for her liking. She poked her tongue out at Harry’s back childishly. If he wouldn’t support her, then she’d just find her own way. She eyed the man thoughtfully as he snickered at her antics.

A shot glass slid against the wood of the table as it headed towards her hand like something from the wild west. "Drink, it'll give you some courage while you wait for your friends."

Looking at the glass and then peering at the figure, she took out her wand from the leather holster on her lower arm and checked the drink for anything untoward. The man chuckled and shook his head with a snort. When it was clear it contained nothing but fire-whiskey, she knocked it back with a grimace. Hermione was never usually one for hard liquor, but he said it was for courage and she needed that tonight. "You didn't answer my question." She gasped, her chest rising and falling as the whiskey warmed her insides.

"You don't recognise my voice then? I'm wounded, Granger." The man placed a hand over his heart dramatically, then he reached over and refilled her glass, his lips pursed as if he was trying not to laugh.

He was familiar but she couldn’t quite place his voice. The way his spread his long fingers over his chest reminded her of Malfoy as he reached for the golden snitch at Quidditch or held his wand when he faced them at the manor on that fateful day, she’d received the scar on her lower arm. Her vision had been blurred the last time she’d seen him, but she saw the desperation in his face as they apparated that day. She remembered wishing for a second that they could take him with them. Then everything imploded and Dobby was dead. She jolted at the memory. Picking up her wand from the table, she pointed it at him. It had been five years, but people don’t forget the voice of their archnemesis’ that easily.

"Now, now, Granger, there's no need for that. I'm just a fellow wizard waiting out the storm like you." He kept his voice low, but she recognised him this time.

She hesitated as he reached over to tap the lip of her glass with his pinkie finger and urge her to drink. She had so many questions for Malfoy, he'd all but disappeared from public life after the war. She'd heard he was a private man who still ran the Malfoy companies, still occasionally appeared at Galas, and if Witch Weekly was to be believed, for him to be here hooded and out in public was very much out of the ordinary.

"This pub is about the farthest place on earth I would've ever thought to find you." She knew it was Malfoy once he spoke again and, intrigued, she instantly began to ask him the question’s she'd always wanted to ask him.

"Hence the hooded cloak. The same could be said for you and your protectors." He replied.

She spluttered on her whiskey, "I never needed them to protect me, Malfoy! Honestly, we protected each other and worked together, we were a team."

He sharply pushed the hood back show his face and Hermione was shocked to see him looking so gaunt. His eyes were rimmed with black circles and he was paler than she remembered.

"Until they were stuck in the dungeon at the manor and you were in fucking agony at my aunt’s hand!" He hissed angrily.

So, there he was, the benevolent hand holding left far behind. His bloodshot eyes burned with anger, but it seemed like a kind of self-righteous ire that was on her behalf, almost like he’d been waiting to tell her off for finding herself in that situation. So, she let it go, telling herself she’d leave and go back to Harry if he started acting like a prick. If she were truly honest, she thought it was best to leave as soon as he revealed himself, but his silver eyes glinted in the firelight and she remembered how boyish he had looked, surrounded by his parents, his aunt and the snatchers at the manor that day. She may not have liked the fact their next meeting was occurring on her night out, but she felt sorrow fill her heart. He was a boy forced to become a man in the presence of Voldemort, his childhood ripped away from him in one foul swoop.

She looked up at Harry and Ron, checking they weren’t looking before grasping his hand and pulling him closer until they were almost nose to nose over the table. "We were in it together!" She bit out from between clenched teeth. "They were safe because of you and it would've been ten times worse if you hadn't done what you did! Voldemort would've killed Harry when he was unprepared! If it wasn't for you the whole war might've ended differently. This is not the place to talk about it, t-they, well, they wouldn’t understand." At that, she shot out of her seat and stalked towards the bar, berating her friends, holding her arm up to order a bottle of fire whiskey.

Draco didn't often venture into polite society. His reputation was mud and he frequented the Cackling Stump because nobody asked any questions, he could just sit in the corner, get pissed and go home to the manor. It had become rather more irritating as the Christmas music began to play, reminding him he would spend another year alone without a witch to warm his bed, his mother his only company. That was until Granger arrived that night and he remembered her fire, the fire which lit him up as a teen, fuelling more than just his mind but his heart. Pansy got shagged a hundred times while he thought of Granger and he felt shame now, the poor girl may have been a pureblood slut, but she didn’t deserve that. Drawn from his thoughts, he noted things seemed to go badly at the bar, with Potter and Weasley seeming contrite as she gesticulated wildly and pointed her finger at them both, holding a bottle of Fire whiskey in her hand in a rather menacing way.

"Don't worry about me, I've found a date and I'll do as I please, so don't even try to stop me!" She stomped towards Draco and grabbed his hand, hauling him from his seat and kissing him.  
She kissed him with such fervour he thought he might lose the use of his legs. He vaguely heard Harry and Ron's protests as she side-along apparated them to a new location which Draco instantly realised must be her house, mainly because of the hundreds of books on wooden shelves covering the walls of the living room. He heard her close off her floo, speaking the spell in an agitated voice.

"Um, Granger, I've already apologised, if you plan on hexing me, please be aware I'm much better at duelling now than I was in school when Potter took me on." His mind was in a frenzy. She'd kissed him and now she was in full-blown rant mode, he wasn't sure if he knew his arse from his elbow as she stalked her lounge with the bottle of fire whiskey in her hand and scolded two wizards who weren’t there. He watched her in astonishment.

"Ugh! They always do this! Like I'm some commodity they can use for a good time but ditch when they get bored of me. I think they forget I'm a woman! They never let any other women on their boy’s nights, but I always get an invite because they consider me one of the lads. Do I look like a man? Are these not tits?" She grasped her breasts and clutched them to prove her point.

Draco almost stumbled over the coffee table next to him, his eyes as wide as saucers as she urged him to look at her chest. He looked away as she began her next tirade. Fuck, her tits are great, he thought.

"Harry even said this catch-up weekend wasn't about getting drunk and then, low and behold, there they are getting pissed at the bar with a new entourage of people wanting to hear their war stories and forgetting all about me!" She threw herself onto the sofa, unscrewing the bottle of whiskey and taking a long dram before holding it out for him to take. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what I'm doing, I'm a bit tipsy and as angry as a two-headed snake, no pun intended." She said flicking her hand in a devil may care way.

Draco had no clue what she was going on about, two-headed snakes? She was like a whirling dervish and it was a tiny bit frightening if he was honest. She muttered to herself momentarily, something along the lines of ‘be brave’ Then she stood, stalking over to Draco and grabbing him by the collar with one hand, laying a smacker on his lips for the second time in less than ten minutes, taking the bottle of fire whiskey and clutching it in her free hand. He seemed to recover from outright shock this time and leaned into the kiss, his hands dropping to her waist as he tentatively touched the tip of his tongue to hers, deepening the kiss. She let out a tiny moan and stepped back swiftly, placing her hand over her mouth and shooting him a guilty look.

"Um, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for and I apologise, you were just being kind to me and now I've kissed you twice without warning. I have to say I was thrown by your sweet persona back at the pub as it’s not like you at all but, hey, we all deserve the chance to change, don't we?" She raised an eyebrow hopefully.

Draco licked his lips, the tantalizing taste of her mixed with the whiskey still on them. Her heady scent of almond and vanilla caused him to suck in a shaky breath. He took the bottle she offered back and perched anxiously on the far end of the sofa, attempting to recover from the most unexpectedly red hot snog he'd ever experienced, mixed with concern he’d put himself in a position where he’d be at her mercy if she decided this was payback time. The first kiss had been very unexpected and haphazard because he barely had time to register it, but the second, sweet Salazar, the second made his heart race and his cock twitch. He gulped down some whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'll be honest with you Granger, I'm not quite sure how our conversation led from those idiots being your protectors to you snogging me."

"Twice." She interjected.

"Twice." He agreed hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he continued. "Not that it wasn't— extremely hot." He cleared his throat and quickly added, his eyes following her as she paused a few feet away, her eyes on his. He rubbed his chin nervously, feeling like he was out of his depth. He couldn't be sure what she wanted or if this was some penance or weird ill-thought-out revenge for his past transgressions.

She threw her head back and let out a delightful tinkling laugh. He'd heard her laugh before but never with such abandon - like he was the funniest person she'd ever heard. He was certain what he'd said shouldn't have garnered such a reaction but felt himself chuckling along with her.

"Me neither, and yes, it was possibly the hottest snog I've ever had too." She hiccupped. Her laughter stopped and she glanced up at him from under her lashes. "Look, as I already said, I'm really not sure why I dragged you here. All I know is, it was mainly to make a point. Those two have spent far too long expecting me to follow them around like some lost puppy, they forget I'm an adult with a life of my own now. You can leave if you want to, but I want you to stay h-here with me. I-I've always quite fancied you, um,” she moved her hand to the back of her head, ruffling her hair, “I'm sorry if I've been too forward, I'm just not very good at this kind of thing. Just forget I said anything at all." She looked down at her lap, her lip trembling as she pulled at a thread at the hem of her dress which suddenly seemed very interesting.

Draco couldn't be sure that his ears weren't deceiving him. "I'm sorry, I thought you just asked me to stay the night, here, with you. Now I know I've had too much fire-whiskey, I think I'm having auditory hallucinations." His eyebrows almost met in the middle as he looked at the bottle and frowned in confusion.

"As I said, I'm rubbish at these things.” She looked under her lashes, her eyes darting away once they met his. “I have no comprehension of how people ask others to go home with them after a night out. Does one say, 'Hey, Malfoy, do you fancy a shag?' Or some cheesy line like that awful one about hitting your head when you fell from heaven, or some such shite? That's just not me, I couldn't visualise myself saying it at all."

Draco felt equally dazed and horny. A shag? So, she was inviting him to stay but had then continued to ramble on and on about awful pick-up lines. Never in his life had he ever expected to be propositioned by Hermione Granger of all witches but he realised this was his chance, he wanted her very much, wanted her since he saw her walk into the pub in her lovely little stripy number, with high heeled leather boots and sleek hair which he wished was again wild curls, not that he didn’t like it, it just didn’t seem like her. "Yeah, see, nowadays no witch would touch me unless I paid them," he hastily added, " which I don't — err, pay them, I mean."

She let out a hoot and began to laugh, slapping her thighs and falling back into the scatter cushions, "I never realised you were so funny!" She tried to catch her breath while Draco blinked rapidly, he wasn't trying to be funny, but Granger was almost in hysterics.

"I'm so glad my lack of a love life amuses you, Granger." He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

She got up onto her knees on the sofa next to him and his eyes dropped to her smooth legs, she was bloody gorgeous back when he knew her at school, and now she was like a dream come true. "Did I, or did I not, just offer myself up on a platter to you, Malfoy? Which is something I also said I was not in the habit of doing." She sank back on her haunches. "You know, if this is how you treat anyone who asks you to sleep with them, then I'm not surprised you're almost celibate, you seem to have a terrible time taking the bait." She stroked her hand along his thigh, biting the nail of her thumb nervously.

It was like a Lumos spell switched on in Draco’s head. He stared at her hand and got took a quick last swig of whiskey to give him courage. "No, the message has been received loud and clear, Granger," he replied, placing the bottle on the floor by the sofa, "In fact, I've always wondered what your knickers look like, I'd spend whole lessons wondering, and to be honest, it's like a teenage dream to know you're not going to be in them for much longer." He cocked his head, his eyes on the dip of her breasts. "That's a smashing dress, but I think it would look better on my bedroom floor." He waggled his eyebrows in mirth, and she giggled again.

"Please no more cheesy chat up lines, my face already hurts from laughing." She moved closer and bounced her forehead lightly off his.

He reached out, cupping her chin as he dropped sweet kisses to each of her cheeks. "Then I'd better begin by kissing them better." He murmured, lacing his fingers through her right hand, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the scar on her lower arm. He heard nothing but the pounding in his head as he planted kisses on every ingrained letter Bellatrix had left on her skin. He had to give her kudos for not pulling away, for allowing him to touch her scars without fear. But wasn't that her? Hermione Granger, gorgeous witch with the heart of a lion. "I know what you said earlier but I'm still so very sorry for my part in this. If I could've changed anything—" He halted as his voice broke with emotion and he closed his eyes, not sure what to expect as she hadn’t moved a muscle.

She was shocked by his sweet kisses because she expected something very different from him. Such gentleness was a huge contrast to the way he'd been with her in the past and she felt herself blush. "I know you would. I know we’d both give anything for that not to have happened, so, thank you, Draco."

He reached out and caressed her lip with his thumb and she darted out her tongue to lathe the tip. His eyes darkened as she moved to suckle the digit.

"You're killing me, Granger." He breathed and closed his eyes as she sucked it deeper into her mouth.

"Well then, what are you going to do about it?" She bit her lip.

“I think I’m going to be brave like a Gryffindor I know—”

Draco’s speech was interrupted by a banging on her front door.

“Hermione! Hermione, we know you’re in there!” Muffled voices came from outside.

“I, um, I’d better—” She gesticulated to the door and rushed to answer it.

She closed the door between the living room and the front door, and he could hear the three friends arguing.

“No, you’re not coming in, I'm entertaining!" Hermione’s righteous voice was muffled as she shouted.

“How the bloody hell do you know he’s not a bloody serial killer, Hermione?” Harry yelled.

“What’s a blimming serial killer?” He heard Weasley ask. “Never mind, look, perhaps I don’t want to know, but Harry’s right, you met this bloke for all of twenty minutes and you left with him, we were worried about you.” The Weasel seemed to be the more reasonable one of the two. Draco was surprised by this, but then the rate at which he’d been slugging down his drinks perhaps he really wasn’t, especially when he heard someone trip by the door.

"Well, now you are!" She retorted and Draco heard a brief struggle. "Harry, no! Please, I’m entitled to my personal life, aren’t I?” Hermione sounded stressed as the door to the lounge launched open with a bang.

Draco stood up, closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable barrage of spells or hex’s, even an Avada, but he heard nothing. Cocking one eye open he stared at Harry Potter and the guy was silent in his astonishment.

“Err, I think you might have broken Potter, Granger?” Draco said sardonically. He wanted to chuckle, but for safety's sake, he buttoned his lip. Potter was almost puce in colour.

Hermione bit her lips together to suppress a giggle and Draco realised that she really did find him amusing. It warmed something deep in his chest.

“Oh, no, Hermione, why did it have to be him! Argh, not him, not Malfoy!” Ron covered his eyes and groaned once he’d caught up with what was happening.

Draco had been privy to many of the telling’s off Granger had given her friends over the years, and her violence was oft a source of amusement to Slytherin house when she slapped them or whacked them with books. Because of this, Draco was able to predict what was about to happen. Granger was as mad as a Hungarian horntail and these two were about to bear the brunt of it.

“And just when did you two become my parents? That’s it, my two fathers, who think they know what’s best for me!” She shouted, poking them both with fervour.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to hoot with laughter. He almost felt sorry for the Gryffindor idiots, when he first entered her flat, he thought he’d be the one to end up thrown out on his ear, but this was priceless, watching Hermione Granger berate Potter and Weasley like they were two naughty boys.

“It wasn’t—” Ron began.

“Shut up!” She launched back at the speed of an Avada. “You will shut up before I really lose my temper!”

Potter sat with a thud on the easy chair and Weasley sank shakily onto the sofa as she continued her tirade.

“I decide! Got that? I decide who I take home with me. We’re not children anymore and Draco is not the person he used to be! Even if he was you can’t tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!”

“Oh, and you can tell that in twenty minutes, can you?” Potter spoke, breaking through whatever daze he’d been in. “He fucking—”

“I know, I know what he fucking did, but we all did things we’re not proud of, we all did!” Hemione’s chest began to quake and she put her head in her hands, running to Draco and burying her face in his chest.

He enclosed her in his arms and there was silence as she sobbed. This was something Draco hadn’t been prepared for after the strangely sexy and entertaining interactions earlier with Hermione. He felt something akin to sadness that she’d fallen out with her friends over him and he found himself speaking up. “Look,” Draco began, sighing and holding her close, “I didn’t intend for anything like this to happen, Hermione apparated me here and to be honest, I know I don’t deserve her to even look twice at me, but I am here, so do your worst. Remind me of the absolute wanker I was, because there is nothing you can tell me that I haven’t already spent five years beating myself up about. Hermione is the first witch who’s shown me any kindness in five years. I’ve imposed a kind of self-imprisonment at the manor. I do my work, I rarely see anyone and Potter, you spoke up for me at my bloody trial, you were the one who kept me out of Azkaban.”

Draco’s speech was a catalyst and instantly Harry was on his feet, “But not for this, not for you to get together with Hermione! I thought you’d find some other poor witch, that you’d have some pureblood marriage contract in place and then you’d probably be your usual arrogant self. I never for one moment thought you’d end up with my best friend!” Harry yelled.

"Things haven't got that far yet, we've only had a drink together, but I really like her. I'm not here to cause trouble. Hermione’s crying so perhaps I should just go?" Draco shifted but Hermione grasped hold of him tightly.

"No, you're not going anywhere, I want you to stay." Hermione snuffled.

“Then I’m getting a drink.” Ron walked over and pulled on Hermione’s arm, muttering something about wanting to speak to her.

Draco felt bereft when she left his arms and followed Weasley to the kitchen. He heard someone rifling through the cupboards and the clinking of glasses as Potter stared daggers at him.

“I don’t need to explain myself anymore, Potter, we were only talking before you arrived and she kissed me.” Draco sat heavily into the sofa and picked up the bottle of fire-whiskey he’d left on the floor earlier, taking a deep drink. Screwing the lid back on, he tossed it to Harry, who caught it deftly and did the same. “Potter, she was always beautiful, I always fancied her, nothing I ever do will be enough to make it up to her, not for all those disgraceful things I did to her—”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Harry interjected, “Do you know how many times she cried in my arms because of you?” He shook his head and drank from the bottle again before passing it back to Draco. “But I remember all she kept saying when she left the manor after her torture was, we should have taken you with us, she cried as she asked me if I saw how scared you were? After five years of reliving that time in my dreams, I think perhaps we should have.”

“You couldn’t have, because if you had my parents would both be dead and I did it all for my mother, you know that, or else you wouldn’t have spoken up for me at the Wizangamot. In the end, my actions kept her alive and that kept you alive.” Draco’s head dropped back against the back of the sofa as he exhaled.

Harry’s cheeks puffed as he sighed. “That’s true, I owe my life to Narcissa, she risked everything for both me and you that day. Looking back on it all, it just seems like a bad dream. Nowadays, I don’t feel like anything other than a father, a husband and an Auror but I care deeply for Hermione, she and Ron—” he paused. “Look, she wasn’t having a good time tonight. I’d promised her that and I let her down because we got talking about the sodding war with some blokes in a back-street bar.” He admitted, glancing away like he couldn’t meet Draco’s eye. “She was scared by the storm and we did what we always do, we let her get on with it. I’m an idiot and I should’ve known better. You obviously helped her instead, I see that now. People often mistake her kindness is something more, she cares about everybody and that’s been dangerous for her in the past. We just don't want to see her hurt."

Draco shifted and took another swig from the bottle, passing it back to Harry. “I never thought I’d ever get a chance with Hermione. I’m not here to hurt her, I’m not even sure if I’m not just a one-night stand on her part. That’s not what I want, I wouldn’t even care if we left this night at a snog if it meant I could see her again. At this rate, I’ll be going home while you stay and see that she’s alright. I don’t want that, but if that’s how it must be, then that’s how it must be. It’s her choice.”

Both groaned as they heard Ron trying to comfort Hermione and she barked at him to bring the drinks in a few moments later. Ron arrived with a tray of butterbeer, swaying slightly as he offered a drink to Draco.

“Much as I never thought I’d be equiv—to a, equival—fuck, I can’t say it, I’m too pissed. She thinks I’m her house-elf, but don’t tell her I said that, she’ll only go off on one. Will you just take the bloody drink, Malfoy?” He said grinning menacingly.

Draco wanted to say ‘Weasley, if you were a house-elf, you’d probably be the ugliest one I’d ever seen’ but instead he took the drink and nodded politely.

Ron looked like he'd been hit with a bludger and sat down on the sofa next to Harry. “Um, Malfoy, Hermione would like to speak to you privately in the kitchen.” His face was beaming red and Draco wondered what Granger had said to him out there.

Harry handed the bottle to Ron as Draco left, leaning over and patting him on the shoulder.

Hermione was looking at a contraption in her hand. “I’m going to order a takeaway and you will all be civil to each other while we eat.” She said without looking up at him.

“Alright, err, so how will this take—, um, thing, you know, get here?” He asked, realising he’d asked the right question when she beamed at him.

“Oh, my sweet summer child, come here and sit beside me and I’ll show you.” She patted the wooden dining chair beside her.

The chair looked rather rickety, but he sat as requested and looked around the room, wondering why she didn’t have a separate dining area. He concluded that either muggles or Hermione Granger did things differently. Her eyes were still a little red, but she seemed much happier after her chat with Weasley. Draco was nervous about that as he’d always thought those two would get together eventually. Her taste seemed to have improved over the years and now the Prophet always showed the prat with a different witch every time he read it, not that he paid too much attention. He had to admit that as a rich, good looking, bachelor he often wondered why Ron Weasley was getting more female attention than him. Draco supposed they just liked his red hair or more likely disliked ex-Death Eaters, regardless of how everyone knew the truth of his past now from Aberforth Dumbledore’s best-selling encyclopaedic history books of the wizarding wars. Potter had definitely married the prettiest Weasley and if he hadn't been taught to think she was a pureblood traitor he might've thought she was attractive. Instead, his mind had always been focused on the girl his father thought was the worst possible match for him, and who now he was sitting beside in her kitchen, in her home. He had no idea what a summer child was, but he gathered he was being told he was an idiot in muggle terms. Intrigued, he moved his chair closer, relishing her blush as his shoulder brushed hers. "So, Weasley came in and served me a drink like a proper little house—ahem, I mean a gentleman, and I talked to Potter like a real person for once. It was possibly the weirdest situation I've ever been in." He tugged on a stray lock of straight hair which fluttered over her ear.

She looked up at him, taking her eyes away from the buttons she was pressing. " I'm glad you stayed." Her eyes were filled with gratitude when she placed her hand on his. "I'm pleased they were good to you; you deserve it and they deserve to know you as yourself. I meant it when I said we're not children anymore. I want you to be friends, I always thought your first meeting could've gone quite differently if you hadn't been so arrogant," she said tentatively, "I watched the interaction as a nobody, a friendless soul back then and I wished you’d asked to be friends with me. However, much I tried to get to know people during our first year, I wasn't sure they liked me. I was so excited to go to Hogwarts and even Ron and Harry weren't nice to me at first."

"I'm sorry Hermione, I was a git to them but I'm sorrier I didn't see in you what I see now, what I've always seen in you since you turned my head, back in third year, when I was a selfish idiot. Plaguing you was a form of entertainment that I've always regretted. I sometimes used to go to bed after taunting you or hurting you and I lay awake, thinking about the vile words that I said and I admit I cried a few times because I knew Lucius had made me something I wasn't, not that it's an excuse. My mother never said those things, she nurtured me and taught me kindness and so did Lucius sometimes, while Voldemort was gone, but he was hard on me when Voldemort returned. He tore everything apart that my mother had tried to do and I hated him for it, but the threats of death came soon enough, the threats against my mother and then he came home after the Triwizard Tournament and he told me I needed to step in line. I think you know the rest." He ground his teeth together at the memory.

Hermione placed her phone on the table halfway through his confession and grasped his hands in her own. "See, I knew you deserved redemption, I always felt it in my bones, Draco. Your mother is a good woman at heart, she was just dragged into awful things by your father. I heard Andromeda had made reparations with her after the war?"

"Oh, yes, my cousin Teddy, he's been the only sunshine in my life." Draco was animated as he clutched her hands tighter and Hermione seemed as excited as he was. "He's a maniac, and he loves Quidditch already."

"I know! He flies with Harry and Ginny when they visit Grimmauld Place or the Burrow."

Draco looked confused. "But Grimmauld is the Black ancestral home where my mother grew up?"

"Yes, err—aren't you Lord Black as well as Lord Malfoy now? Harry was left the house by Sirius. It makes me wonder why you know nothing about Harry inheriting Grimmauld after Sirius died." She looked perplexed.

"No, I knew nothing of that." He paused. "But Potter deserves it if he was left to him by his godfather, and to be honest, I heard tales of that old nasty elf who served the blacks in my childhood." He shivered.

"Yeah, he's a little f—um, Draco, I hate to stop you there, but do you want food ordered the muggle way? We can talk more; I really want to talk much more after. What do you want?" She showed him a menu on her mobile phone. "It's Chinese food, I'll order on my phone and then they deliver it here and we just pay them at the door."

"Here?" He said his eyes wide, he looked again at the phone. "But I don't know what this is." He looked at a few dishes that looked rather nice, his stomach growled, and he set her off laughing again. He realised that was his favourite thing, hearing her laugh at him, with him, or just laughing. "Um, this one." He pointed at the screen. Fuck, he thought to himself as she looked over his shoulder at his choice, her hair tickling the nape of his neck, he could fall in love with her, he really could, his stomach fluttered at the thought and it had nothing to do with being hungry.

"Perhaps not, Harry tried that once and it almost blew his head off, that's a spicy Chinese curry. Would you mind if I chose for you until you get used to ordering?" She asked, her hand curling around his upper arm, her thumb caressing his bicep.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I trust you not to blow my head off." She’d suggested they could order from the muggle Chinese again and his foot bounced quickly under the table at the realisation she wanted to see him again.

She paused and gave him an intense look, her eyes on his lips. "Can I kiss you again?"

He barely heard her ask before she kissed him. This time he lifted her onto her dining table and was snogging her from his place between her legs when he heard Potter call out and ask when the food was coming. Draco ground his hips between her legs and wondered whether he might come himself before the food arrived as she mewled in the most exquisite way.

"Yeah, I'm on it." Hermione called through, her head hanging back as he kissed her throat. She lifted her head up, her eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, Draco, I'd better order the food, or we'll never be alone."

The sultry wink she gave him filled with promise rendered him speechless. He'd already told her she was killing him, now it was ten times worse as she picked up her phone and bit her lip as she spoke on the phone, her eyes on him as she ordered the food, asking for it in the sexiest way he'd ever seen. Then she walked into the lounge and switched on some music he'd never heard before from a player he'd also her been privy to, he peered at the buttons in passing.

Ron and Harry were chatting, and she wandered off tapping their shoulders and involving herself in their conversation and he saw her hug them gently, sitting beside Harry and patting his hand.

Draco sat down and laid his head on the back of the chair. He couldn't help but listen to them as they mucked about, it felt like he was almost back in the common room at Hogwarts, but then he got into the song.

'Hello from the other side, I must have called a thousand times, to tell you, I'm sorry, for everything that I've done, but when I call you never seem to be home.'

Potter was closest and a bit pissed, so Draco picked up his butterbeer from earlier and knocked his ankle with his foot, "Hermione likes this music, what is it?"

"Erm, I think it's Adele, Hermione loves her, she wants to see her live," Harry said as he listened, "I kind of like her too."

Draco sank back and listened. He wondered what Potter meant about watching this singer live, he'd investigate how he could make that happen. He'd already decided he wanted to take Hermione on a date if she agreed, he'd also decided to find out where to get some of this music she liked. He shoved Potters foot again. "Where can I get this music from?"

"Christ, Malfoy, you need to go into muggle London and get some equipment to play it on before you think of buying her CD’s."

"CD’s?"

"Holy shit. Hermione's going to have a field day with you, and I'll bet you'll love it." Harry guffawed.

Draco felt like someone who didn't know a thing about anyone, but he did know some things about muggles already from his personal research and would learn what Hermione liked if it killed him. He stood and walked over to her, standing awkwardly under Weasleys and Potters stares. "You like someone called Adele, or so I've been told." He took her hand in his. “Will you help me find a way to listen to her music?"

The way he asked so earnestly made her heart dance. She hugged him close and nodded rapidly. "I never thought you'd ask, I'm so happy, of course I'll help you."

The doorbell rang and scared the shit out of him. Hermione ran to open it and Draco watched her give muggle money to the man and take two bags from him. He followed her and watched her open the bags in the kitchen. He took hold of her hips and kissed the nape of her neck. "I never realised this would make me feel so happy, being totally clueless about muggle life but I want you to be the one to show me."

She reached back and shoved a chicken ball in his mouth.

"Oh, Merlin, that's hot!" He fanned his mouth as he tried to cool it. It tasted amazing but burned the roof of his mouth.

"Wait till you try the rest." She smiled, biting into a prawn cracker and rolling her eyes. "Yum." She licked her lips.

He reached out and took the other half from her hand, shoving it in his mouth and groaning in appreciation. He licked his fingers. "I'm starving, but I can't wait to get you alone." He gave her a peck on the lips. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment and Draco pushed her against the cooker, nibbling at her neck.

"Hermione, please, " Ron shouted deliberately from the lounge, "less snogging out there, we can hear your lips smacking and it's either cause you're eating the bloody food or snogging each other's faces off. In either case, our foods getting cold!"

"Good one Ronald, why don't you get the plates out? You know where they are." Hermione called back.

Draco heard Potter and Weasley bickering in the other room and he chuckled and nibbled on Hermione’s earlobe.

"You said to tell them to knock it off. I did one better and still got told to get the plates mate, it's your turn next time." Ron griped.

"Life's a bitch and then you die." Harry retorted.

"Not you mate." Ron hooted and came into the kitchen opening a drawer containing cutlery. "Oh' sweet Salazar’s bollocks! Do you have to snog each other over the food? We have to eat that!"

"I'll make you a muggle picnic and you and Potter can eat it at his, then we can snog until our lips fall off." Draco murmured, his eyes on her lips without looking up.

"Oi, Harry! Malfoy reckons we're a cock block, so we're taking the food and going to yours." Ron yelled back to the living room.

"Thank Merlin, I thought they'd be shagging in there before we got our dinner." He called back.

"I'd better open the floo," Hermione pulled herself away, pecking his cheek, "I have no idea what would happen if those two are let loose on the London Underground with a bag of Chinese food."

Draco peered at the food she'd laid out on the table and speared a lump of meat on his fork. Throwing in his mouth, he smacked his lips, it tasted amazing, to the point he ignored the loud and hardly quiet whispers in the lounge about Weasley getting his manager to check me out and Potter threatening to send his pregnant wife around when she wanted to hex him for getting her up the duff. He heard her send them away and return to the kitchen. She blushed as she entered and he thought she was perfect, her pink cheeks matching the charming crimson flush of her chest. They were alone once more, and he poked his fork into a chicken ball and offered it to her. "I think this is possibly the nicest and yet most awfully greasy thing I've ever tasted." He grinned.

She walked over and plucked the chicken ball between her lips, her eyes rolling back. "I'm starving and I thought they'd never leave. I love them, but they can be so bloody overprotective."

Draco ate some noodles and chewing, he sighed. "Yeah, I understand how it annoys you, but then the last time I saw you they had good reason to worry. I suppose things have changed but seeing as they've turned into your two adopted dads, I get it." He grinned.

"You picked up on that, did you?" She covered her smile with her hand and shook her head. "I swear to Helga Hufflepuff, I was as nice as I could be without beating them to death with their own bloody shoes.”

"It sounded that way. Even I was worried about them, although I think I was more concerned that they’d dissuade you from coming back to me." He reached over and took hold of her free hand, lacing his fingers through hers while she twirled her fork in the chow mien and chomped on it.

"Godrick, I'm starving." She spoke and knew she hadn’t eaten in the politest of ways.

Draco almost choked on his prawn cracker when she looked up with a tiny tendril of noodles hanging from the corner of her mouth.

"You've got a—" He reached over and wiped the edge of her mouth with his littlest finger, relishing her goofy grin as he brushed the food away and she caught and edged it into her mouth with her tongue.

"I'm sorry." She lifted her little finger to wipe each corner of her mouth in the most demure way she could. Hermione was now embarrassed because she was sitting before a Lord, yeah, a fucking Lord, who'd pointed out her inadequacy at eating Chinese noodles, even though he'd never eaten them before and also while sitting at a table and chairs set she'd brought from IKEA, built herself the muggle way and which had a piece of parchment under one leg to keep it straight. She didn’t even want to think of the chairs and how unsteady they were. She tried not to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand like she usually would when home alone and she wasn't really sure why she was so concerned. After all, Draco had sat opposite her in the Great Hall at Hogwarts for years and he must've seen her being a totally haphazard with her eggs that morning when she spilt them down her robes when she was thirteen, she panicked, he probably thought she had terrible manners. She wasn't sure why she was worried, but she realised how much she wanted him to like her now he was here. She clutched her fork and stabbed a mini spring roll violently, irritated by that thought. This was Malfoy after all. He could kiss and he'd changed but she wasn't a pushover by any means, or so she told herself.

Draco was watching her with an amused look. "Whatever happens, my little Gryffindor princess, your manners will never be as bad as Weasley's. I swear every Slytherins eyes were on him at every meal, watching how he ate like a pig." He winked.

She sighed in relief, but then felt angry on Ron's behalf. "Like that was as bad as watching you with Pansy Parkinson's tongue down your throat as dessert."

"That happened once! And it was an accident, I didn't want it, I turned my head at the wrong time!" He exclaimed. His face settled into a knowing smirk. "You were jealous."

"I was not! How can you say that? I didn't even—" Hermione’s face went red.

"What was that? I suggest you were about to say you didn't fancy me then." He smirked and poked a pork dumpling with his fork, plonking it into his mouth. "Ooh! That is so weird!" His face blanched.

Hermione almost fell off her chair in hysterics, "Oh, god, I can't believe you were taken down in the end by Chinese pork balls."

He swallowed it and pointed his fork at her. "But I still ate it! That's one to me!"

"Absolutely not! I've eaten hundreds of them during my lifetime, you've eaten one, there's nothing you use to beat me in muggle stakes!" She jeered.

"No?" He sultrily raised an eyebrow and she almost wet her knickers.

"No, n-not at all." She stammered as he lifted her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles.

"I disagree." He lifted her to her feet, staring into her eyes. "I think you need to turn some music on, and I'll beat you at dancing instead."

"Yeah, like you'll beat me at dancing to my favourite song, oh, and it isn't Adele, I adore her, but it’s Christmas and I think you'll be surprised when you hear what I really like." She tilted her chin in challenge.

"Bring it on." He retorted, jumping to his feet and placing his knife and fork down in a polite way.

She reached over and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge before she rushing to the lounge. Swigging from a bottle of screw-top red wine, she stumbled as she headed to the CD player. She searched through her collection and waved a CD case in his face. "Ha! Got it and you'll never beat me at this Draco Malfoy! You just try it!"

The beat began and it was like nothing Draco had heard before, it started off slow but got faster. He'd been taught the waltz and a few other forms of classical dance, he’d also danced to the band at the Yule Ball and Hermione thought he knew nothing of muggle music, but in the past few lonely years, he'd learned a lot, including how to dance to muggle music. He'd practised many types of dance at the manor, not all muggle, mainly just to stave off the boredom but as soon as the song began it reminded him of muggle Motown and he started swinging his hips, smoothly dancing around the room. "I think I know this one, but it didn't sound like this before." He called over as he shimmied and swung his hips.

Hermione threw her arms into the air and rolled her body to the music, "What did you think it was?"

"I thought it was a song by the Supremes, you know, from Motown?" He moved to grasp her hand and spin her and pulled her back to his chest, revelling in her look of shock.

"Say it isn't so?" She gasped.

"It isn't so?" He raised an eyebrow and she burst out laughing.

"I really can't believe you're so funny and you know who the Supremes are. You are an enigma Draco Malfoy!" She giggled as he spun her under his arm again and she sang along with the song.

"I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know.  
Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you.”

They fell on the sofa breathlessly as Hermione was in hysterics again. "Holy shit, I don't think I ever sang such apt lyrics to anyone."

Draco smacked his head against the back of the sofa, "I don't think I've ever had such a good time or had someone want me as their Christmas present." He watched as Hermione used a thing with buttons to turn off the music before she returned to his side.

"I'm sure that's not true." She snorted, passing the bottle of red to him.

"Merlin’s smelly shite, what the fuck is that? Vinegar?” He almost spat the wine out on his lap.

“No, it’s Tesco’s Cabernet Sauvignon, four quid a bottle.”

“Hermione, I don’t know what a quid is, but it tastes like the shite Malfoy Vineyards throw away as the slop.”

“It probably is.” Hermione snickered.

“Anyway, why do you find it so hard to believe that I’ve had a really good time with you?" Draco had noticed she did this, deflected when someone gave her a compliment. Perhaps this was why she was still single too.

"Well, you're rich and you live in a big Manor House, you have run businesses and you're successful, or so I've heard. Also, you own a vineyard that sells wine that people would kill for."

"Quite.” He pulled his lower lip uneasily. “Look, galleons aren’t everything Granger, and if I'm brutally honest, I'm lonely, so fucking lonely and meeting you again has made me feel like I've woken from a bad dream, as colour has suddenly flooded a world of black and white. I've been working and occasionally seeing the odd friend who stuck around after the war and that's been going on for five years. Blaise or Theo come to the manor for drinks sometimes, but I think they're sick to death of never going out anywhere. There's only so much brandy, cigars and billiards a bloke can take I suppose." He gave her a melancholy smile. "They wouldn't be seen dead at the Cackling Stump, and I don't blame them."

"Yeah, it's certainly not the Ritz." She smiled.

Draco didn't know what the Ritz was, but he wondered whether it was somewhere she'd like to go someday and resolved to make arrangements. Perhaps when he took her to see the live Adele singer. He knew he’d be sending an owl to someone about it tomorrow. "I like how You're real, you know, you say what you think, and you don't spend your time expecting to be chased by a man, not like the empty-headed idiots at school. I mean, Pansy and Daphne were sensible enough but neither had any prospect of getting more than requires improvement in their N.E.W.T's, not that they ever attempted to, they just stopped trying because they had money and knew they'd be getting married by the time they were eighteen. Whereas you, well, you spurred me on in a race to first place, that and the knowledge father would likely take his cane to me if you beat me in marks again, he was livid about it." He chuckled but he frowned after. "I don't want some airhead who thinks money and marriage is everything, if I'm honest I couldn't give a damn if you came and cleared all my vaults out to free house-elves or endangered pink bow-truckles, not if it meant you'd stick around so we can perhaps see if there's more than just a few lusty snogs and a promised shag at the end of the night." He placed an arm around her shoulders across the back of the sofa, his thumb caressing her collarbone.

She blushed, "I have to admit, I think I'd like that."

He took a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"

Hermione turned on the sofa and crossed her legs Buddha style. "You could kiss me again, or we could take things slowly, get to know each other properly."

Draco moved closer and brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "We could do both?" He murmured, his lips barely an inch from hers.

She could smell his aftershave, mellow sandalwood with a hint of delicious spice, layered with his own unique scent. She quivered barely resisting the urge to lay her face in his neck and just inhale until she'd taken her fill, but her childhood nemesis would surely run if she did something so intimate, so quickly. "You smell nice." She whispered, nudging his lower lip with hers and following it with a brush of her tongue.

He cradled and tilted her head in his large hand, his fingers twining into the hair at the nape of her neck as his lips slid over hers. She moaned, her hands grasping at fistfuls of his shirt. His tongue massaged hers as they deepened the kiss and he pulled back gently, "You taste exquisite."

"Your eyes are beautiful like this, they look mercurial." She gave him a shy smile, flushed and breathless.

“So, we’re agreed, for now, we’ll just leave it here, at a kiss.” It took a lot for Draco to say it as he was desperate to take things further while wanting to see her again. He didn’t want to ruin what seemed to be developing between them.

“Okay,” she caressed her lips with the tips of her fingers, “as long as you meet me for lunch tomorrow.”

“Where?” He murmured.

“Here, I’ll cook Sunday lunch for you, something to rival the elves at Hogwarts.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Then it’s a date and I’ll bring the wine. Please, for the love of Merlin, don’t allow Tesco vineyards to provide your wine, they deserve their vines to be burned to the ground.” He stood and distanced himself because he knew if he didn’t things would escalate quickly.

Hermione let out a small snort, rising to open up her floo. “I promise I will never drink wine from Tesco again if you promise to always provide a good alternative.”

He lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed her pulse point. “Always, princess, I’ll look forward to it. Goodnight Hermione Granger.” Draco stepped into the floo taking a handful of powder. He spoke once more. “You know you’ll never get rid of me now I’ve tasted you?”

“Wouldn’t want to.” She blew him a kiss, revelling in his wink as he disappeared in a flash of green.

Hermione threw herself onto her sofa and shrieked, shaking her whole body in jubilation and pumping her fists in the air. “Yes! Who got Draco Malfoy? I got Draco Malfoy!” She sang.

She got Draco Malfoy!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N’s Bibliopolium – Latin for Bookshop


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